


6,000 and Counting

by ItchyToaster



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Is saying 'I love you' a kink?, M/M, Praise Kink, Service Top, They're in love!, Top Crowley (Good Omens), bc Crowley's got that, they love each other!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:43:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItchyToaster/pseuds/ItchyToaster
Summary: After the storm has passed, the two celestial beings take a stroll down memory lane.





	6,000 and Counting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quentintarantowo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quentintarantowo/gifts).



> I adore these two so much I had to write a little something about them. Here's to the lovely ineffable husbands!

The wind had picked up significantly after the sun had set, much to Crowley’s dismay. He  _ had  _ planned on driving back after supper, he really did, but with the blizzard roaring outside and his poor beloved Bently nearly covered in snow, he decided to stay put in Aziraphale’s bookstore. 

He would never admit it out loud, Satan forbid, but he always did admire Aziraphale’s bookstore. It was the complete opposite of his own minimal, cold apartment, and after everything had closed up it was nothing but the two of them surrounded by warm candlelight and ancient texts. Still, his eyes narrowed as he looked out onto the street, brows knit into a scowl. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself, sacrificing fashion over comfort as he tried to stay warm in his new satin jacket. Any other time he would have been comfortable, but the reptilian demon despised the cold. 

 

A chuckle came from behind him, the warmth of Aziraphale’s voice averting Crowley’s gaze. 

“You know staring won’t make it go away.” The angel teased, offering a cup of murky liquid with a pungent sweet smell. Crowley frowned, knowing Aziraphale had quite a sweet tooth. 

“I don’t want that.” He muttered, turning back to the window and looking longingly at his sweet car. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, stepping closer so his chest brushed against the demon’s back. “Come away from the window, dear, let me get you something warmer.” 

 

Though Crowley wanted to stay put, stay stubborn, he could never resist any pet name the angel bestowed upon him. “Fine.” He glowered, following Aziraphale into the middle of the bookstore, finding a chair to sprawl out in. Once seated, he was handed the cup again, which he sniffed heavily. “What  _ is _ this?” 

“Hot chocolate. Trust me, it’s quite good.” 

Crowley frowned.

“It’ll make you warmer.” 

 

The demon pursed his lips, looking down at the cup before taking a large sip. The liquid was sickeningly sweet on his tongue, the surprising strength of it reminiscent of the way the angel tasted.  _ Very _ sweet. It burned and warmed his chest and stomach, and though Crowley never liked to consume anything that didn’t make him less sober, the pleased look on Aziraphale’s face made him drink it. 

“Thanks.” Crowley smiled a bit, finishing his cup. The angel returned the expression, reaching to take the mug. 

 

“You know,” He hummed, his expression turning a bit cheeky. Crowley tilted his head. “Some humans like to… oh, what do you call it…” Aziraphale paused. Crowley tilted his head, smiling affectionately as he watched the angel fish for his words. He snapped his fingers with delight at his discovery. “Spike! They like to spike their hot chocolate with alcohol. I don’t suppose you would—”

“ _ Yes _ !” Crowley raised his arms to the air. “Why would you think any different, angel? Of course, spike away!” They grinned at each other, Crowley’s eyes lingering as Aziraphale made his way upstairs to his flat to make a second batch, presumably.

 

After their second, the two beings quickly moved onto their third and fourth, both ‘temptations’ to Crowley, who nearly shoving the angel back up towards the flat when another round was in question.

“Never much liked that sweet stuff,” He grinned, watching Aziraphale walk back up the stairs to get refills. “But humans sure know how to get drunk huh?” He snorted, stepping away from the entrance to Aziraphale’s flat to find a place to sit. 

 

Crowley found himself a book to read, picking up one from one of the many stacks strewn over the old wooden floor. Without reading the title, he strolled over to the nearest couch, plopping down unceremoniously. The cold still prickled his skin with goosebumps, and in a moment of what he declared drunken genius, he peeled his jacket off, tossing it over himself like a blanket before filling the book open. He still shivered as he read, however. As he turned through Shakespearean sonnets, trying to recall the ones he had seen when they were written, footsteps approached him. Without a word, Crowley moved over, sitting upright to let the angel sit next to him.

 

“I thought you didn’t care much for sonnets.” Aziraphale commented, handing the mug over. 

Crowley took a large gulp of the hot chocolate, enjoying the bitter burn of alcohol at the end. “I don’t,” He hummed, flipping through pages without much of a glance over the words. “I’m looking for the ones that were written when we were there, ‘member?”

Aziraphale smiled wide, cooing softly. “Are you sure you remember?” He chuckled at Crowley’s furrowed brows. “I was the one that went to Edinburgh that year.” He moved closer to look over the titles. “Wait, there’s one!” He put his finger on the page, stopping Crowley’s turning. 

“Sonnet 116?” Crowley asked. “Don’t remember that one.”

Aziraphale only laughed. “You never appreciated poetry all that much, did you, dear?”

“No,” Crowley hummed in defeat, knowing the angel was right. It was only when  _ Aziraphale _ talked about Shakespeare's poetry that he ever took an interest. Or, interest in Aziraphale talking about anything, really. He only liked the funny ones. 

“Wanna do the honors, angel?” He handed the book over to his counterpart without an answer, gulping the last of his hot chocolate down. Setting the mug down, Crowley moved closer, head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder.  

The angel sighed, setting his own drink onto the nearest table. “I suppose.” Crowley hummed happily, making him smile. “Comfy?” The subtle nod was all Aziraphale needed before he began, clearing his throat.

 

“ _ Let me not to the marriage of true minds, Admit impediments. Love is not love, _ ” Crowley shifted, his head starting to fall from his shoulder, but the reader hardly noticed. “ _ Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. _ ” 

“Doesn’t make any sense,” Crowley commented dryly, his breath tickling Aziraphale’s neck. 

“Dearest,  _ please _ ,” He huffed, continuing. “ _ O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; _ ” The figure to his right shifted again, the head on his shoulder suddenly falling into his lap unceremoniously.  “Crowley!” The angel half exclaimed half laughed, looking down at the demon. “Are you alright?” 

 

Crowley smiled a toothy grin. “Never better, dear.” He settled into the warmth of Aziraphale’s thigh, humming quietly as he listened to the angel continue. “ _ It is the star to every wand'ring bark,  _ _ Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, _ ” Aziraphale gazed down at Crowley, who only looked up with a content smile, one so rare and so pure, he may have been mistaken for an angel himself. He smiled, looking away from the book as he still recited from memory, much to Crowley’s surprise. “ _ though rosy lips and cheeks _ ,” Fingers danced over Crowley’s sharp features, the angel’s fingertips caressing his cheek and moving to his jaw, his thumb lightly rubbing the junction between his jaw and neck. Crowley barely minded, smiling a bit more from the touch at Aziraphale continued. “ _ Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. _ ” The angel smiled, knowing for sure as he looked at his beloved that those words indeed rang true.  “ _ If this be error and upon me prov'd, _ ” Aziraphale shut the book, setting it to the side. He leaned closer to Crowley, gazing affectionately at him. “ _ I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd _ .” The last line was a whisper, a secret the two of them shared. Crowley hummed contently, his smile never faltering. His angel returned the gesture before closing the gap between them, their kiss gentle and soft as the sonnet.

 

“I love you, sweet angel.” Crowley sighed, the words coming out in a way that almost sounded sorrowful. Aziraphale only smiled, knowing that the demon’s profession of affection was always one of emotional labor. 

“I love you too, dearest.” Aziraphale purred, his fingers musing the demon’s soft red hair.

The demon hummed, his eyes closing behind his sunglasses as he reveled in the angel’s soft touches. Although he still shivered from the cold, Aziraphale's presence made him warmer. He trembled under his jacket-turned-blanket.

 

“You’re cold.” Aziraphale’s hand stopped his brow heavy with concern. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Crowley shook his head, weight sinking into the couch. “ ‘m fine here.” He said casually, though his skin was cold to the touch. 

“ _ No _ , Crowley, come on,” The angel pushed him up, making him whine in protest though he still shivered under his coat. The demon frowned. “I’m fine, angel. I don’t need your help.”

“ _ Crowley _ ,” Aziraphale’s brown narrowed, his stern tone immediately making the demon follow. Before following Crowley up to his flat, Aziraphale made sure to put out all the candles, turning off the lights, still worried about his bookshop burning down another time. 

 

Crowley had already made his way upstairs, familiarizing himself with the kitchen and living room, though he had been up multiple times before. The whole place smelled sweet like vanilla and was warm like sunlight. It was the opposite to Crowley’s own home, much like the rest of Aziraphale, but it brought an immeasurable amount of comfort to the tipsy demon as he sauntered about the living room, quietly admiring all the little trinkets the angel had collected over millennia. He stopped upon a small pocket watch, the brass faded and covered with dust, but as Crowley picked it up to examine it, the dust came away on his fingers, revealing its true golden color. 

 

“Do you remember that?” Aziraphale asked, his voice just a few paces away.

“London, 1944. How could I forget?” Crowley hummed, a smile tugging on his lips. He opened the watch,  the inside painted brilliant hues of blues and oranges, an image of a nebula. The device still ticked with military precision. The angel crowded his space; Crowley knew without looking that if he leaned back even slightly his head would rest on his shoulder. “I thought you said you’d give it back.” He chuckled as Aziraphale grasped for a ‘just’ answer. 

 

“Well I,” He sounded exasperated like he always did when he attempted to defend one thing or another, reconciling his less-than-holy behavior. “After  _ you _ stole it, I must admit I had grown… rather fond of the painting.” 

“ _ You _ said I couldn’t have it.” Crowley countered, his voice a sneer though he was only teasing.

“I wanted to give it back at a proper time. You left so quickly, I couldn’t find you for almost thirty years!” Aziraphale sighed, worry weighing on his face. His hand rested on the demon’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Take it now,” His offer was soft, gentle like before. Crowley naturally relaxed under his touch. “since you’re here.”

 

Instead of placing the watch into his pocket, Crowley shut the device, putting in its rightful place. “No,” He hummed, turning to Aziraphale. “I was going to give it to you, anyways.” He smiled as Aziraphale’s lips spread into a wide blushing grin. “My, my,” Crowley cooed, his hand moving to cup the angel’s face. “So beautiful…” 

Aziraphale smiled, pressing his face into the other’s hand, relishing the comfort found in his touch. He placed his hand over it, squeezing lightly. “Careful with your kind words, demon. Someone will mistake you for an angel.” He teased, both of them grinning as they leaned closer, kissing one another earnestly. 

 

Every time they kissed, Crowley would let out a content sigh, his hands grasping to hold onto the angel, and this time wasn’t any different. He loved the way Aziraphale tasted, much like the tasty human deserts he had an affinity for. It was terribly delightful, almost sickeningly so, but if that was the case, Crowley didn’t mind being ill. His tongue gently licked Aziraphale’s lips, asking for entrance, and was quickly granted it, the two beings exploring one another through taste and touch. 

Crowley still felt cold, the winter nipping goosebumps all over his skin, but in Aziraphale’s arms, he seldom cared, wanting to drown in his presence. They broke the kiss, foreheads together as they shared their breath. Crowley shivered again. 

Aziraphale frowned. “Darling, come, I have just the thing for you.” The name made Crowley’s legs suddenly weak, but he followed the angel to his bedroom, a place he had hardly been to, only to steal his counterpart’s clothing. 

 

The demon placed himself on the bed, the furniture pristine and a perfect reflection of the angel’s own style and personality. Crowley maneuvered himself to lay in the mountain of pillows, toeing off his shoes to reveal colorful socks decorated with cats. Aziraphale giggled, searching through his closet. 

“Angel, I told you, I don’t need your help,” Crowley complained. 

“Oh please,” The voice came from the walk-in closet, getting louder as the source emerged with a soft black sweater. “You’re so dramatic when you’re cold.” He gave the demon a once over, setting the garment on the bed. “Now, get rid of those stuffy clothes and put on something warm. I won’t have a guest purposely be uncomfortable.” Crowley sat up, his face shocked behind his wide sunglasses, Aziraphale concluded. 

 

“This is the new Louis Vuitton collection, have a little respect.” He countered though he began to unbutton his shirt. As he did so, he could feel the angel’s gaze, something he never complained about. “Oh and  _ I’m _ the one who was condemned to Hell.” He chuckled as Aziraphale’s eyes diverted away, walking back into the closet presumably to change into something comfortable as well. Neither of them really had a need for it, but both beings were fond of fashion, and the lovely versatility of human’s clothing. 

 

Crowley dropped his jacket and shirt onto the floor by the bed, pulling the heavy sweater over his head. The same sweet scent of vanilla engulfed him, putting him in a state of comfort and euphoria. After slipping the garment on, Crowley brought the collar to his nose, sniffing contently as he thought about his angel. His eyes closed, resting back on the pillows as he was surrounded by sweet, delectable smells and touches, the pillows under him also carrying the same smell. 

Aziraphale’s laughter caught him off guard, and the demon quickly pulled the sweater down from over his face, his cheeks tinted pink. “Oh my dear,” The angel emerged from the closet in a similar sweater and pajama pants. He laughed as he sat on the bed, eyeing the demon with a cheeky grin. “You are just—”

 

“Don’t say it.” Crowley scowled, sitting up and fixing his sunglasses. 

“Adorable.” The angel concluded, with a content sigh, a bubbling laugh passing his lips at his lover’s permanent frown. He leaned in, attempting to leave a quick peck on the other’s lips, but was met with a more forceful one, completely devouring Aziraphale’s previous motives. 

Crowley pulled away, now closer to the edge of the bed. “Really?” The words were almost a growl, purposefully so to attempt to steer away from his ‘adorable’ actions. From Aziraphale’s expression, the demon knew it was working. “ _ I’m _ the adorable one here?” He smiled, a look of sincerity behind his glasses as he shifted from his hostile defense. “My angel, you know you are the embodiment of the word, don’t you?” He cooed. A hand came to cup the other’s face, gently stroking the angel’s soft skin. “Come,” Crowley insisted moving so Aziraphale could join him on the bed, which he did almost immediately. 

 

Without another word, they met again, kissing slow and languid as if they had all the time in the world. Aziraphale rested back on the pillows, humming against his lover’s lips. Above him, he could feel Crowley’s hands trying to get under the fabric of his clothes. “So much for changing,” Aziraphale laughed, sitting up to strip himself of his sweater. 

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t saunter out here naked.” Crowley chuckled at the other being’s face of horror. 

“Don’t be so  _ crude _ ,” He frowned, lightly hitting the demon’s arm, who only laughed more. A hand pressed to his chest, but Aziraphale didn’t move. “No, come on, take them off,” Crowley only frowned, knowing what article was in question. The angel reached out, slowly taking off those notorious dark sunglasses. As much as Crowley always protested about them, he allowed Aziraphale to take them off. 

  
  


The angel set them on the bedside table smiling as Crowley blinked at him, his beautiful yellow eyes almost glowing. “How lovely you are, dearest,” Aziraphale hummed, cupping his lover’s face. “Such beautiful eyes. You know they’re my favorite part about you.” He insisted as Crowley looked away bashfully. He never did take praise quite well. His hand ran through those fiery red locks, smiling as the demon moved his head back, eyes closing. Crowley hummed, leaning and molding to Aziraphale’s touch. 

 

“Let me please you,” He purred, eyes opening to look down at the angel again. “My angel please.” Aziraphale only smiled, tilting his head up to leave a gentle kiss on his lips. “Of course my darling.”

Crowley wasted no time stripping himself and his lover bare, aching to be close to him. Though he wanted to take the angel apart piece by piece, every cry that came from him with every curl of his fingers just urged Crowley to move faster. He longed to be as close as he could to Aziraphale, his fingers curling up inside of the angel and adoring every sound of pleasure that escaped his lips. His wrist began to ache as his three fingers massaged Aziraphale’s prostate. Underneath him, the angel cried out, his hips beginning to arch off the bed. “Cr-Crowley!” Without any further instruction, the demon withdrew before it became too much. 

 

As the angel began to calm down, Crowley kissed over his neck, down his chest and stomach, murmuring compliments into his soft, curved flesh while his hands roamed over his body. “So beautiful, Azi.” Crowley purred, nipping at the other being’s hip. He kissed the bruise that had begun to form as he always did, nuzzling against him. Fingers carded through his hair, tugging slightly, to get his attention. Crowley groaned. 

 

“Yes, my love?” He asked, raising himself up to look at Aziraphale. He practically drank in the sight, adoring how beautiful Aziraphale looked blissed out of his wits. His platinum hair mused and pushed back, his skin gleaming with what looked like sweat but smelled sweet like the pillows and sweater Crowley had discarded earlier. His blue eyes were heavy-lidded, affectionately gazing up at his lover. It was, in a word,  _ heavenly _ .

“Crowley,” Aziraphale could barely speak, his chest heaving as he tried to calm down, lest he cum the moment Crowley slid into him. “Fuck me.  _ Please _ .” 

 

The demon chuckled at the angel’s obscene language, leaning in to kiss him. “I’ve been rubbing off on you, haven’t I?” The question made the angel laugh, the sound airy and wonderful like wind chimes on a summer day. 

“In one way or another.”

 

Crowley hummed, raising himself up and moving so he was snug between Aziraphale’s spread thighs. His left hand squeezed and ran over his soft warm skin, his other stroking himself as he lined up with the angel’s entrance. Slowly, he pushed in, both of them moaning at the feeling. Aziraphale almost sobbed, his voice always getting obscenely loud, much to Crowley’s delight. 

“Good?” He asked, stopping as he bottomed out. The angel could only nod, knowing himself too well to attempt to speak. However, that was the opposite of what Crowley’s question had intended. “Use your words, my angel.”

 

Aziraphale silently cursed himself, eyes shut for a moment before he spoke. “ _ Very _ good.” He groaned, his jaw dropping open as the cock in him began to slide out. His breath began to quicken, legs lifting to lock around Crowley’s middle. His hands searched on the sheets, trying to ground himself in their solidity but finding nothing. “Crowley,  _ yes _ ” A gasp was pushed from him as the demon hit his prostate. He chanted the word over and over, coming out in breathless whimpers.

 

The angel’s words only encouraged Crowley, his hand quickly finding Aziraphale’s, clutching tightly as his hips moved. He moaned, hunching over his lover and burying his face in the angel’s neck. He left feverish kisses on his skin, sucking bruises there only to kiss them with more intent. He moaned again as Aziraphale called his name, his fingers clutching around the angel’s warm hand. 

“Azi,” Crowley panted, face tucked into his lover’s neck. He breathed in, the angel’s scent intoxicating him. His hips snapped forward as he drowned in his lover, attempting to speak. “Azi,” He repeated desperately. “s-say it,  _ pl-please _ .” He whined, a desperate, humiliating sound, but to Aziraphale, it was endearing, his heart pooling in his chest as his lover begged. 

 

“I love you.” Aziraphale moaned, his other hand tight in Crowley’s damp hair. “I love you, Crowley,” His words had the demon moaning obscenely, his hips stuttering as he slammed his hips into the others. “ _ Oh _ ,” The angel moaned again, encouraging his lover. “You please me so well, darling, so well. Such a good boy,” Aziraphale moaned again, back arching slightly. “Aren’t you?”

“ _ Yes _ .” Crowley blurted, writhing with pleasure and praise. “I love you, Aziraphale. I love you, I love you.” His voice was a sob. Fingers tugged at his hair again, making him moan into his lover’s skin. 

 

“Let me see you,” Aziraphale gasped, feeling that familiar coil in his stomach. “Let me, yes, just like that,” He praised as Crowley rose himself up, their eyes meeting. The angel noticed the wetness around the other’s glowing eyes, but he made no point of mentioning it. “ _ Beautiful _ .” The word trailed off into a moan, his hand gripping Crowley’s. 

 

“I love you.” The demon repeated, his chest overwhelmed with unfathomable affection and pleasure, his hips beginning to falter. “I love you I love—” Crowley’s voice broke off, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside of his lover, his cock twitching as he kept moving, wanting desperately to please the angel. The warmth made Aziraphale moan, clenching around the cock inside of him. The feeling had him spilling onto his stomach with a warbled cry of ‘I love you too’. 

 

Their breaths were shared as they pressed their foreheads together, eyes closed as they grounded themselves in each other’s presence. Crowley hummed contently, the sound low like a purr as he kissed the angel below him, soft and sweet. As he did so, he slowly pulled out of him, groaning at the loss of the tight heat.

 

Aziraphale sighed at the loss, trembling as he felt the warm liquid begin to pool under him. Knowing the mess wasn’t going to be very pleasant in their afterglow, the angel quickly miracled away the mess. He turned on his side, seeing Crowley still face down on the mattress. “Crowley, love,” Aziraphale hummed, placing a hand on the dip of his lover’s spine. “Come here before you get cold again.” 

 

Without another word, the demon complied, moving weakly into the angel’s chest, his head resting on his sternum. He pressed his wet lips to his chest, nuzzling his warm skin and quietly intaking that familiar comforting scent. “Love you.” Crowley murmured into Aziraphale’s chest. Fingers ran through his hair once more, a reminder of the other’s presence. 

“I love you too.” Aziraphale murmured, smiling to himself as he listened to his lover already begin to drift off. 


End file.
